


Shadow by the Window (Spy on Me)

by Alt_reaYoon



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 11:45:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1427293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alt_reaYoon/pseuds/Alt_reaYoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The more he watches, the more he wants something he knows he can't have; in which Paul watches from the windows, and Nico mightn't know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadow by the Window (Spy on Me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [larascasse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/larascasse/gifts).



> Originally posted [here](http://understeers.livejournal.com/1192.html)
> 
> It evolved into a 2000+ word thing, I don't even know. I personally think my writing style changed while writing it, so it might be a tad confusing. I just hope [](http://larascasse.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://larascasse.livejournal.com/)**larascasse** likes it! Special thanks to bulletthestars for putting up with me and for beta-ing, and J for some... guy insight.

  


  
Paul didn't know how it all began.  
  
The assignment had been easy enough: "Watch subject, make reports, do not engage him." Paul had always followed the orders to a tee - he's heard horror stories of how agents who have gone against the rules had disappeared immediately after, and following orders had been one of the first few pieces of advice the senior agents had given him after he graduated from the academy. Sticking to the instructions, however menial it may seem, had never failed him so far.  
  
  
  
  
Until Paul met _him_.  
  
  
  
  
Nico Hulkenberg. Paul remembered how the name rolled off his tongue the first time he'd said it - with a rough, sharp intonation that sounded harsh with his Scottish lilt. Although he had learnt not to judge people through their names (Jenson Button had definitely not sounded like cake and tea with a dash of British humour), he hadn't expected him to look so...  
  
Paul resolutely stopped his mind from wandering off. Again.  
  
(Because watching Nico Hulkenberg was not an "ensure subject's safety" assignment - it was an "ensure subject doesn't endanger anyone" assignment. After the last fiasco where said subject had (apparently) somehow bypassed the security systems of the British and Chinese governments at the same time, stolen classified data and scrambled them up so much that most were irretrievable, the agency would be damned if they let him escape.)  
  
It was easy for the first week. Nico had a daily routine; breakfast, computer, lunch, computer, shower, dinner, computer. Paul almost died of boredom from all the mundane, which led him to notice all the little quirks Nico had - how he always wore baggy, loose clothing, how he'd tuck hair behind his ear when he was stuck at what he was doing (Paul could tell, he hadn't pressed a key in a while), how he'd favour his contacts over his glasses even at home (Paul personally preferred the glasses, not that he was keeping track). After a while, he'd realised that that was what a stalker would take note of, and internally argued with himself that he was just doing his job for the rest of the day.  
  
  
  
  
Then Nico began snacking.  
  
On hindsight, it was an entirely innocent tweak to his routine; after all, computer work must be incredibly boring (Paul never stayed awake through the mandatory programming tutorials), and he supposed that he couldn't blame Nico for changing something.  
  
But the way he had eaten the goddamn banana... Paul's cheeks flushed red as he watched Nico's lips wrap around the body of the fruit, taking a bite and chewing oh-so-slowly, and when he _finally_ swallowed it, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly, Paul almost made a sound (he would never admit that it would have been a whimper) but caught himself just in time.  
  
(He had never fantasised about things from just watching people eat, but he really couldn't help thinking about how good Nico would look between his legs, perfect lips in a smirk and around his cock, with black-framed glasses sitting lopsided on the bridge of his nose and long blonde hair hanging down his face-)  
  
Paul had frantically pulled back from the camera, suddenly thankful that the long-range camera couldn't capture any noises and trying not to hate himself for wearing too-tight jeans.  
  
  
  
  
Nico's routine changed after that.  
  
Instead of just computer work between meals and showering, Nico snacked, made calls, and actually left the house once (to the supermarket; Paul had followed as per his duty, trying not feel like a stalker and failing miserably). They were normal tasks, but they looked foreign to Paul because he'd become so used to Nico's schedule. He'd noted the change in his field reports, which caused the agency to ask if he felt that he needed back-up - Paul had (almost immediately) refused.  
  
He hoped that it had sounded like he genuinely didn't think help was necessary, and not sounded like he was upset that the agency didn't trust in his competency, because that would have him transferred immediately, which meant no more Nico.  
  
(He tried not to let the implications of that last phrase come to light.)  
  
  
  
  
If Paul thought he would get used to Nico's anything, he was sorely mistaken.  
  
Nico liked baggy clothes, or at least he appeared to. Paul would watch him float around in too-big pyjamas the whole day, the only visible shape of his body being his broad shoulders from which the rest of his top hung.  
  
So when Nico walked out of the bathroom with only a towel around his waist, Paul almost fell back on his arse in shock.  
  
(Shock, that Nico would walk around in almost nothing and _not_ in shock that Nico was really fit despite the constant snacking, that he had a really well-defined back and that his arms were really well-shaped and that the still-wet skin was so inviting that Paul wanted to lick all the water off-)  
  
He did not just think that.  
  
Paul edged towards the camera again, knowing that he had to watch Nico, as was his duty, half-afraid of and half-eager to see what he was doing, and-  
  
Nico was still half-naked, phone to his ear, and eating a banana. Paul quickly looked away, but his cock had already expressed an interest.  
  
Goddammit.  
  
  
  
  
(The one thing that didn't change was that Nico's windows were _always_ open. Paul didn't get it; if Nico was really doing work, wouldn't he have closed them? Of course, the angle of the computer was positioned so that no camera could really capture what was on the screen, but the entire apartment still seemed too _open_ to be that of a criminal's.  
  
It's almost as if he wanted someone to see him... Paul pushed that thought out of his mind before it could fully settle. There is no way Nico could know that someone was indeed watching him... could he?)  
  
  
  
  
_Nico pushed him against the wall, hungry lips claiming his as he struggled to push back against the taller blonde. Paul gasped quietly as Nico's mouth trailed down his jaw to his neck, and Nico looked up, smirked, opened his mouth to say something-_  
  
And nothing.  
  
Paul jerked awake at the dream, not understanding its meaning until the noise recorder feed was installed into the camera.  
  
He didn't know if he wanted to hear what Nico sounded like.  
  
  
  
  
Paul would have liked to keep the noise off, but Jenson had been rather insistent when he'd arrived to install it, something about how his best friend had gone through all of Nico's security measures to get the feed in place (Paul was quite impressed, if the nickname 'Ant' indicated anything to do with the person's size), and he would rather Paul not put all his effort to waste, thank you very much.  
  
(Paul couldn't say no to Jenson even if he tried anyway.)  
  
Nico spoke in both German and English, of which his English was surprisingly clear and (if he heard closely) slightly sarcastic. Other than Nico's frequent cursing ("Look, if you are on the wrong fucking street, you better get your bloody eyes checked, moron."), most of his words were cryptic and didn't seem to hold much meaning to it; when Paul reported them, he had noticed the agency appeared to be steadily getting more impatient.  
  
(Paul skirted the fact that most conversations were in German though; he didn't want the agency to send in any other agents, especially not Jenson's other best friend 'Britney', who was one of the few Germans in the agency, because that would give Jenson an excuse to come here and he didn't want to tell Jenson that he kind-of sort-of had a thing for the blonde he was supposedly spying on. They'd find out eventually anyway, when they sent the video transcripts in.)  
  
  
  
  
Nico took a break from his computer work for once and settled very comfortably on the couch, switching on the television. The soft 'vrooming' of engines accompanied by voices echoed through the speakers, and Paul sighed as he settled in for another long night of nothing - he wouldn't be able to hear any phone conversations Nico might have with the sound of the commentators in the speakers.  
  
Paul turned away from the cameras to scribble an observation in his report for a quick minute, and then settled down behind the camera to watch him. Nico sipped from some iced wine as he watched cars going round and round in circles (Paul never understood racing, although Jenson followed the races and news and gossip of the paddock to the point of fanaticism), and Paul was sure he was about to fall asleep barely ten minutes in when Nico's hand dipped under the waistband of his slacks.  
  
Paul flushed a shade of red a Ferrari would have been proud of; Nico's other hand set the wineglass down and pulled his pants down to pool at his ankles. Paul's mouth went dry at the sight of Nico's hand firmly and slowly stroking himself, palming and fondling his balls with the windows wide open, and although he would normally have been mortified at the shamelessness and averted his eyes, Paul's eyes stayed glued to the camera, riveted at the sight of the blonde he'd fantasised with his hand between his thighs.  
  
Nico let his head dip forward slightly, his fringe falling across his eyes slightly, making them look half-closed; Paul thought fleetingly that it made him look vulnerable, and that thought both aroused and sickened him at the same time. Watching someone intimately without permission was not what he'd ever wanted to do, and definitely not a someone that was meant to be a criminal. Somehow, without even meaning to, just simply spying on (and stalking and imagining and following) Nico Hulkenberg had sucked him into this mess, and if he ever got out of this, he was seriously considering never accepting another surveillance mission, even if it got him kicked out of the agency.  
  
Paul cursed softly as he crossed his legs from his perch, trying to suppress his growing erection. Nico's breathing, although quieter than the noise from the television, could be heard behind the engines, and it was becoming louder and harsher as the strokes increased in pace. Paul covered his mouth to muffle his own sounds, and he was never more glad that he was the only agent on duty. (Jenson would be insufferable if he ever found out.)  
  
Nico was nearing his climax, he'd bitten and chewed on his bottom lip for a while but Paul still could hear his sporadic "fucks" and "shits" he muttered amidst his harsh German. Paul was fully hard by now, but Nico's noises and hands and everything was distracting him so, he didn't have time and senses to bother about himself for now.  
  
Nico forced his knuckles between his teeth just as he went over the edge, the noises cutting off abruptly from behind the sound of the engines. Paul made a sound at the back of his throat as he took in Nico's flushed face and exposed neck as the blonde leaned back against the sofa; he could imagine Nico fully-naked beneath him as they'd finished, his blonde hair plastered to his face and eyes glazed over-  
  
Stop.  
  
Paul groaned and averted his eyes to handle his own problem as Nico lifted a cum-covered hand to his mouth, sucking his index finger in, and the sound of Nico licking his hands clean in the background of the engine sounds...  
  
He was so fucked.  
  
  
  
  
Paul stumbled to the camera, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Nico was once again doing some mindless thing on the computer, and if Paul didn't like the way he scrunched up his nose or pushed up his glasses (he had taken to wearing them more often now) as he worked, he would have probably fallen asleep. Or at least, slept as long as he could before another dream haunted by Nico woke up him again.  
  
Nico hadn't pulled a stunt like that again, but the damage was done; dreams of fucking Nico, Nico fucking him, blowing him, tying Nico up, and even one where they had sex while watching a race on the television, and Paul couldn't sleep. He tried sleeping pills, but Nico would appear again, and he would wake up even more tired than he had been the day before. So he had taken to not sleeping at all, watching Nico sleep in his own bed and trying not to feel like a creep even though he knew he was. Nico didn't even know who he was, for heaven's sake!  
  
(He had contemplated calling Jenson, just to talk to someone, but Jenson knew him so well that he would definitely be able to tell that Paul hadn't been sleeping, and not only would be try to coax the truth out of Paul, he'd probably try to bring him to yet another friend of his called 'Grasshopper' or 'Beyoncé' that so happened to be a shrink, and Paul really didn't want to handle that, so he didn't call.)  
  
  
  
  
The agency decided to pull Paul out.  
  
He was both relieved and horrified - relieved, that he didnt have to watch Nico anymore and sleep with dreams of Nico and maybe, just maybe he would be able to forget this after a while.  
  
Horrified, because he was sure he would never see Nico again, and that he knew that he wouldn't be able to forget him even if he tried.  
  
Jenson debriefed him about it, said a team would be sent in to take Nico into custody; apparently Paul had done a stellar job, be rewarded for it, and given three months' leave to settle affairs that he'd avoided while on surveillance.  
  
Paul asked what changed. Jenson said it was classified. Paul didn't ask again.  
  
He just hoped no one saw the look of relief on his face when they announced that Nico had disappeared without a trace.  
  
  
  
  
Paul found himself seated at his favourite café two months later, reading a book and drinking some tea (he'd avoided coffee since his run of insomnia). He was supposed to meet Jenson here, who would finally be bringing his two friends 'Ant' and 'Britney' along; Jenson had always procrastinated a meeting amongst the four of them, but some cake bribing had done the trick.  
  
The two months since had been quiet. He'd settled his bills and his loans, met up with his family, and his dreams were no longer haunted by Nico Hulkenberg.  
  
Paul told himself that he didn't miss Nico.  
  
Paul glanced at his watch; Jenson was late, as usual, and his tea was running out. Looking up from his book, he called for the waiter to order another-  
  
He was just there, across the road. He smirked, and disappeared when Paul blinked.  
  
  
  
  
Paul told himself that he didn't miss Nico.  
  
(Paul also knew that he lied.)  
  
---


End file.
